Ten.Two Thousand, Three Hundred & Thirteen
It feels extra dark this morning, but he’s already awake so I don’t have to be as quiet.
The fog is so thick you can scoop it with your hands. I look for the trees with the changing leaves-oaks, mostly.
Something for nothing.
It sounds like something is erupting. Not the washing machine. Not the dishwasher. I see the water coming from underneath the kitchen sink. I run to the back door and yell for him to come back.
The last bit of tomato soup.
Always water with us.
Twenty-one days.
So much happier when I’m home.
Chicken pot-pie.
Foundations.
